


secret love song

by thisissirius



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Cooking, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 20:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6821926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/pseuds/thisissirius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Alec leans against the bench at the back of the room, stares down at his shoes. “I need to get some things for cooking - for a meal thing for Magnus.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>“‘A meal thing’?” Clary says, a grin tugging at her mouth. “You mean dinner, right? That's so awesome!”</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>Rolling his eyes, Alec shrugs. One day he’ll understand why everyone is so invested in his relationship with Magnus. Today is not that day. “Will you help me?”</i><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	secret love song

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for magnuslikedwhathesaw over on tumblr for their birthday. you can find the [original here.](http://thisissirius.tumblr.com/post/144170652848/for-magnuslikedwhathesaw-who-has-a-birthday)
> 
> thanks to janoda who looked this over the beginning for me. it's 5k of literal fluff.
> 
> i'm so easy for these two i s2g ;_;

Alec’s searching through old Institute records with Lydia when he finds them.

They’re written on paper, the type of which Alec hasn’t seen before, and the edges are starting to curl with age. He recognises the handwriting, because he’s seen it a hundred times, usually when Magnus is cradled against his chest and the latter is writing notes, or a letter, or a hundred different things.

“I didn’t know Magnus had anything here,” he says, almost to himself.

Lydia peers over his shoulder, eyes widening as she takes in the scribbles. “Those are plans for the portal.”

Alec fans out the pages and sees a different handwriting, this time a letter to Magnus, detailing the mechanics and physics behind the Portal, and how to employ them utilising Magnus’ magic. “Why doesn’t he have these?”

Face falling, Lydia takes some of the notes, Henry’s as far as Alec can see, and brushes a thumb over them. “The Clave probably confiscated all the notes to keep them from falling into the wrong hands. They didn’t - don’t - trust Downworlders after all.”

She says the last with a wry twist of her lips and it meshes with the bitterness and anger tightening Alec’s chest. Something so personal to Magnus taken because the Clave thinks it necessary. “Not that they can create them without a Warlock anyway.”

Alec’s been disappointed in the Clave a lot lately, so it shouldn’t be a surprise. He opens his mouth and then closes it, knowing what he wants to say, but not knowing how.

Lydia saves him, her eyes piercing as she watches his face. “It’s Magnus’ birthday soon, isn’t it?”

Alec’s been trying to forget. They’ve been dating for a while - and he’ll never tire of saying that, even if it’s only in his head - but birthday’s are a Thing. Alec’s only had one, but one’s enough where Magnus is concerned, using it as an excuse to lavish attention and gifts on Alec — not that Alec’s complaining, though less glitter wouldn’t go amiss. Alec’s not had the chance to celebrate Magnus’ birthday with him yet, but just the thought is daunting enough.

“Well,” Lydia continues, when it’s clear that Alec isn’t going to say anything. “Perhaps you could give these to him?”

“You don’t want them?” Alec says, a little stupidly; she’s offering them to him. “I mean, I could, but I don’t know if I’m even going to be, you know.”

“Alec.” Lydia rests a hand on his arm. “He’ll appreciate them.”

If there’s one thing Alec knows about Magnus, it’s that he holds onto things. There are cupboards and closets in Magnus' apartment full of things that have age written all over them. Lydia gathers all of the papers together, sliding them into one of the old manila folders peeking out of the stack of boxes.

Alec still doesn’t think it’s the right kind of gift you get for someone, but he can’t think of anything else, and he’s running out of time to get something. Magnus is 400 years old, give or take a decade, and he’s had as many birthdays for people to give him things. What can Alec find that Magnus doesn’t already have, or couldn’t magic up himself?

 

 

Henry’s letters aside, Alec wants to give Magnus something else, something that matters to him as much as it does Magnus. He knows that Magnus is incredibly lonely sometimes, and has been for almost a century; Magnus told him once, making a joke about it like he does when he’s nervous, or sad, or doesn’t think anybody cares. Alec cares, more than he wants to admit out loud, and remembers everything he’s told, even if Magnus probably wishes he didn’t.

“Now I have you,” Magnus says one day, curled up with Alec on his biggest couch. It’s wide enough to accommodate them both, and long enough that Alec can lie comfortably.

Magnus _does_ have Alec, not that Alec can find his voice to say so. He’s carding a hand through Magnus’ hair, locks falling through his fingers like sand. He closes his eyes, content. “You’re not lonely anymore?”

Magnus stills against him. “You remembered that?”

Alec makes a noncommittal noise and waits for Magnus to relax again. He does, slowly, and rests a hand on the curve of Alec’s shoulder. “You’re not though, are you?”

He doesn’t mean to ask for real, but he can’t help but worry that he’s not enough, that the loneliness will seep in when Alec isn’t looking.

“Alec,” Magnus says, and Alec looks him in the eye, swallowing thickly at the look he sees there. “I haven’t been lonely since you walked through that door.”

It’s too much.

(It’s the reason Alec wants the perfect gift; Magnus has given him so much and Alec wants to return the favour.)

 

 

 

Alec’s room seems to have become the focus point for gatherings lately, which isn’t surprising. He’s rarely around, spending most of his downtime with Magnus, so when he _is_ at the Institute, everyone seems to gravitate to his room.

He’s currently sat on the floor, back to the door as he picks at his jeans.

Clary and Jace are on the bed, Alec suspects they’re sleeping. He’s content on the floor; it’s far enough away that nobody can see how often he’s texting Magnus.

“You have the entire day,” Lydia says, legs crossed where she’s sitting on the only chair in his room. They’re talking about Magnus’ birthday, of course, because it’s clearly the only exciting thing happening at the moment.

“We promise not to call you,” Izzy adds from the floor at Lydia’s feet.

Alec frowns. “Is that wise? What if something happens?”

Lydia and Izzy share a look, but it’s Jace who breaks the silence. “We can take care of it. Chill out, man.”

It’s easy enough for them to say, they’re not the ones that clean up the messes left behind. Which is a little unfair considering they’re all a lot better at not making the mess in the first place. Clary lifts her head from Jace’s shoulder and looks down at Alec. “You should cook him dinner!”

Lydia grins. “That’s a great idea. The best way to someone’s heart is with food. 

Alec’s not sure that’s accurate, but wisely keeps his mouth shut.

Everyone starts discussing what Alec should cook and how, so he buries himself in texting Magnus, ignoring the thud of his heart in his chest at the thought of making something with his own hands and giving it to Magnus.

 

 

 

Izzy has a box of cookbooks under her bed. She’s a terrible cook, but she’s enthusiastic and that’s enough for most people to gift her with all sorts of recipes. Since the end of Valentine and Jace coming home, Alec’s been steadily growing into the kind of person he’s always been afraid of becoming. It’s always been something to hide, something to bury under layers of denial until he was the perfect Shadowhunter. Now he’s finding his personality, hobbies and likes.

Cooking is one of the things he’s taken to, with Izzy’s (less than) guiding hand to help him out. He follows the recipes dutifully, keeping to the instructions even though Izzy - and Clary - both offer up advice on variation. Sometimes the dishes work, often they don’t, but he’s determined and more often than not, his food tastes okay, if not good.

He’s never cooked for Magnus, though, and doesn’t know what he’s going to do. He’s got carte blanche to go through all of Izzy’s books; sitting in the middle of her bedroom floor, surrounded by recipes that are both difficult and daunting, he’s coming up short.

“You could just wing it,” Izzy says, sprawled across her bed. She’s been staring at him in amusement for what feels like hours.

“Uh, no.” Alec makes a face. That is absolutely not happening.

Swinging her legs off the side of the bed, Izzy shifts a couple of books with her foot. “How about that one?”

It’s an old cookbook, dogeared and marked in a hundred places, but Alec reads _Indonesian Dishes_ and picks it up. “How do you even have this?”

“Someone gave it to me,” Izzy says, the standard answer, but she rests her chin on Alec’s shoulder as he flicks through it. “Though now I’m glad they did.”

“So am I,” Alec murmurs, honest. “These look complicated.”

Izzy takes the book from him, face scrunched up in concentration as she flicks through the pages, finally marking one for Alec. “Here, how about this?”

The recipe doesn’t look overly complicated and both the main and dessert look delicious. Alec runs his finger over the picture and wonders if Magnus will like it, whether he’ll appreciate having a dish from his home, or if the reminder of centuries gone will be something he’d rather not have.

“What if he doesn’t like it?”

“Alec,” Izzy says, a reproachful tone in her voice. “Your instincts where Magnus is concerned are rarely wrong. Give yourself a break and you might surprise yourself.”

Alec doesn’t say anything, though a small part of him hopes that she’s right.

 

 

 

Armed with the recipe, he realises that getting hold of the ingredients is another matter entirely. The food is supplied by the Institute, and as much as Alec knows it’s probably the logical course, asking someone there is out of the question. That means shopping. For _food_.

“I need help,” he tells Clary, after a training session. She’s steadily improving, coming a long way from the days of Valentine’s reappearance, and though Alec’s never going to tell her to her face, he’s proud of her.

“Shoot,” she says, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. She smiles more now that Valentine’s gone.

Alec leans against the bench at the back of the room, stares down at his shoes. “I need to get some things for cooking - for a meal thing for Magnus.”

“‘A meal thing’?” Clary says, a grin tugging at her mouth. “You mean dinner, right?”

She looks ecstatic and eagerly wants to know more. Rolling his eyes, Alec shrugs. One day he’ll understand why everyone is so invested in his relationship with Magnus. Today is not that day. “Will you help me?”

Looking delighted to have been asked, Clary nods. “Of course! His birthday is Wednesday right, which means tomorrow would be best and-”

Alec lets her ramble, bemused, but as long as it gets him the ingredients he needs to cook this dinner, then he’s willing to put up with it.

 

 

 

What he’s not willing to put up with is Simon showing up at his bedroom door the next day, holding a wrapped package in his hands. Alec looks him up and down and raises an eyebrow.

“Can I help you?”

“I have something,” Simon says proudly, brandishing the gift. “It’s for Magnus.”

Alec frowns. “His birthday isn’t until tomorrow. Also, you’re giving it to me.”

Simon nods and while his enthusiasm is annoying, Alec’s a little intrigued to know what he’s holding. “Clary told me what you were doing for Magnus and I maybe mentioned it to Raphael and he said this used to belong to Magnus but Camille took it and kept it so I got it back for you.”

Alec has trouble following Simon at the best of times, but he gets the gist of what he’s saying. He’ll kill Clary later for telling anyone, let alone the vampire equivalent of a gossip, but he takes the package with a nod. “Uh, thanks.”

“No problem”, Simons says, grinning. “I hope he likes it. And the dinner. And, well, yeah. Oh, you can open it! Raphael says it was like that when he found it.”

Alec opens it later, when he can hide away from the insufferable grins and knowing looks. Inside is a picture of Jakarta - or Batavia as it was then - in pencil. Someone with a lot of talent put time and effort into it and Alec doesn’t know who, but if Camille took it - and he knows from experience that she can be petty and vindictive - it means a lot to Magnus. 

He rests it next to the bag of ingredients and the folder with Henry’s letters. He’s nervous, doesn’t know whether or not Magnus will even _like_ any of this, but now that he’s started, he’s going to see this through.

 

 

 

He has a crisis of confidence later that night, getting so worked up that he makes his way down to the training room to blow off steam. He’s still pounding his way to a clear head when he looks up to see Jace leaning against the doorjamb, staring at him with an expression Alec can’t decipher.

“What?”

“You know,” Jace says, pushing himself off of the door. “You’ve been worrying over Magnus’ birthday for a week.”

“Have I?” Alec asks, rolling his eyes. He adjusts his gloves, but doesn’t go back to training. He stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, refusing to make eye contact with eye contact.

He can see Jace’s shoes out of the corner of his eyes as he makes his way across the room. “It’s dumb.”

Alec’s hackles raise. “What would _you_ know about it?”

It’s stupid to get mad at Jace, even though Alec _knows_ they push each other’s buttons better than anyone else. The look Jace gives him tells him they’re both aware of this. “That Magnus loves you.”

Feeling like the breath’s been punched out of him, Alec takes a step back. “He, well, uh, I know that he-”

“Alec,” Jace says slowly, resting a hand on Alec’s shoulder. “It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that he loves you - and that you love him back.”

It’s too soon for words like _love_ , Alec thinks hysterically, though it’s not necessarily true. Lydia told him once, when she was talking about her husband, that you just know when it’s right, when they’re the _one_. Alec’s never been in love, he’s never let himself _want_ to be in love, but Magnus is overwhelming and perfect and everything Alec wants.

“What if he doesn’t like any of it?”

Jace squeezes his shoulder, a smile on his face. “He will, Alec, because it’s _you_.”

It should be corny and trite, but a little blossom of hope bursts in Alec’s chest.

 

 

 

Alec lets himself into Magnus’ apartment early the next morning. Everything is still and quiet, the only sign that Magnus is still asleep, and Alec hopes that he’s not overstepping the mark here. He’s stayed over at Magnus’, and they’ve shared a bed more times than he cares to admit, but that’s different to inviting yourself over just _because._

He almost trips over Chairman Meow as he makes his way through to the kitchen - he’s sitting in the middle of the _hallway_ , which shouldn’t be a surprise, but somehow Alec always manages to be. He sets the bag of food on the counter, making a face when Chairman threads his way through Alec’s legs, begging for food.

“You’ll wake him up,” Alec says softly, crouching down to scratch the top of Chairman’s head. It’s second nature to find the (very expensive) cans of food that Magnus keeps in the cupboard by the cooker and dump half the contents on the plate at his feet.

Rolling his eyes fondly, Alec shoves the rest of the food in the fridge - bottom shelf where everything Chairman Meow lives - and heads for the bedroom. The curtains are pulled, only a slither of light spilling onto the bed, and Alec can see the curl of Magnus’ hair poking out the top of the duvet. Magnus is a blanket hog, which doesn’t bother Alec, except when he’s trying to wake him up.

Shrugging out of his jacket, he drops it on the chair and leans across the bed, one hand right by Magnus’ head. Magnus doesn’t stir. Normally, Alec would be panicked by the complete lack of protection Magnus has against intruders, but he knows better; Magnus has hard-wired, for lack of a better word, his apartment to let Alec in. The trust and love behind that gesture still gets to Alec, but he’s learning to accept that that’s how Magnus feels.

“Magnus,” Alec says, voice low. He pulls back the covers with his free hand, taking in the sight of his boyfriend’s slack, beautiful face. Magnus shifts a little in sleep, but doesn’t wake. Alec can’t help the smile and leans down to kiss Magnus slowly, fingers brushing gently against Magnus’ cheek. “Happy birthday.”

Magnus hums in the back of this throat and Alec can feel him waking slowly. Leaning in for another kiss, Alec lets his fingers trail down Magnus face again, resting against his collarbone. “Mmmm’Alec?”

“Good morning,” Alec says, nose against Magnus’ cheek.

Cracking open one eye, Magnus’ face crinkles into a soft smile, one hand poking out of the covers to cup the back of Alec’s head. “Good morning.”

“Happy birthday,” Alec says softly, closing his eyes. The angle of his body is awkward, but he gladly suffers the pain for the quiet wake up, the way Magnus feels against him, the thought of them having the whole day for just _them_.

When Magnus comes awake fully, stretching and kicking the covers down a little, exposing a flash of skin that makes Alec’s mouth dry, his eyes are bright - and the glamour is down. Alec will never get enough of seeing Magnus’ real eyes, the ones he spends precious magic keeping up, knowing that they’re all his like this, that he gets to see them all the time.

“Can we just stay in bed all day?”

“No,” Alec says, not unkindly. “I have plans.”

“Oh?” Magnus says, looking interested. Alec flushes, hoping that his plans are acceptable and not boring.

“Well, I have plans tonight. The morning and afternoon are all yours.”

Magnus frowns. “By all mine, you mean just me?”

“No!” Alec says quickly, stretching out on the bed next to Magnus. Draping himself across Alec’s side, Magnus nestles his chin against Alec’s chest. “I mean I have the whole day to spend. With you. If you want. I could always-”

“That’s exactly what I want,” Magnus says happily, fingers rubbing smooth circles into Alec’s stomach. “I just didn’t think you’d want to be away from the Institute for that long.” 

Something clenches in Alec’s stomach. It’s true that he spends a lot of time with Magnus, but duty’s always calling. He’s never thought to think about how Magnus feels about him disappearing all the time. “It’s your birthday so I wanted to be here. I can do it more if you want, I just thought you wouldn’t want me here all the time.”

“I always want you here,” Magnus says, seriously, and Alec’s breath catches. He doesn’t know what to say, so settles for pulling Magnus into a hot, messy kiss. When they part, Magnus’ eyes are wide, his lips red and swollen. “I think I know how I want to spend my morning.”  


 

 

When they finally get out of bed it’s almost lunchtime.

They settle on the couch and Magnus watches trashy television. He rarely gets a moment of calm, and though Alec can think of better ways to spend the time, he’s content to be with Magnus, laughing at the commentary that goes hand in hand with terrible programs, and trading kisses and longing, suggestive touches in the quieter moments.

Magnus’ phone rings later that afternoon, a pre-planned phone call that has Izzy asking if Magnus will come to the Institute to see them. Magnus frowns, trying to get out of it, but Alec trails a hand up his arm, cups the back of his neck.

“Go. They want to see you for your birthday. I have a surprise anyway.”

Magnus looks intrigued and torn, but he nods jerkily. “Fine, but you should know I don’t like being surprised.”

“Liar,” Alec says with a smile, stealing one last kiss before Magnus disappears into the bedroom to get ready.

When he’s finally gone, moaning all the way, Alec heads for the kitchen, aware that Chairman is sitting in the middle of the floor, looking plaintively at his plate. Alec dumps the other half of the food down for him and then gets to the dinner.

He’s nervous, doing this for the first time, and worrying in equal measure. He’s done worse things, though, and shoves down everything but the determination and starts dinner. He’s timed it down to the second, though food rarely adheres to a schedule, and hopes that Izzy and the others can drag out Magnus’ visit as long as he needs them to.

He gets a text not a half hour after Magnus leaves with a sad face and _I miss you_.

Alec smiles fondly and sends a text back before starting on the dessert. It’s startling to know just how much of his life is _Magnus_ , but he doesn’t resent it. It’s making him happier, giving him so much more than he had before and he doesn’t know what he’d do without Magnus there.

 _Come home soon_ , he sends, when everything is ready and he can set the scene. He fumbles through the table setting, the candles and the music. He picks something from Magnus’ endless collection, something soft and old, and steps back, hoping it’s enough, that Magnus will like it.

Brooklyn stretches out beneath him, the perfect backdrop to his dinner and he feels _happy_.

He hears the door go, and hovers awkwardly by the table, arms hanging by his sides and palms sweaty. What if Magnus hates it? What if it’s the wrong thing, or the food is bad, or Magnus doesn’t-

“ _Alexander_.” Magnus sounds breathless and when Alec looks up, his eyes are wide. He looks shocked but not _bad_ shocked.

“Um,” Alec says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Happy birthday?”

Magnus crosses the room quicker than Alec’s ever seen him walk and he finds himself being pressed back, legs bumping the table; he catches himself on it to keep from tipping everything over. Magnus kisses him, warm and wet and _everything_ and it’s all Alec can do to keep from drowning in it.

When they part, Magnus looks at him with awe, happiness and not a little love. “You did this for me?”

“I wanted to - I didn’t know what to do and then Izzy said to cook, and we don’t spend time together and I thought this would be okay.”

“It’s more than okay.” Magnus leans in for another kiss. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Alec flushes, pleased, and rests his hands on Magnus’ hips. The dinner is probably cooling a little too much, but Alec can’t bring himself to care. He doesn’t deserve _Magnus_ , but doesn’t say that, relishes the pleased surprise on Magnus’ face.

“What did you cook?” Magnus says, peering over Alec’s shoulder at the dinner. His eyes widen when he takes in the Chicken Javana, the smell of spiced rice. “ _Alec_.”

“Izzy had a cookbook,” Alec explains, though he probably doesn’t have to. “I know you can get Indonesian food anywhere, but I wanted it to be - to be-”

“It’s more than perfect, Alec,” Magnus says, eyes suspiciously wet.

Alec pulls away, smiling as he gestures at the table. “We should eat.”

The food isn’t bad, though Alec’s not sure he’s a good judge of his own cooking, but Magnus looks pleased and the noises he’s making are shooting straight to Alec’s dick, which isn’t a terrible thing. They’re clearly both enjoying the dinner, though Alec’s reasons have less to do with the food.

Alec brings out the dessert when the plates are mostly clear, Es Krim Alkupat that gives him another long, drawn out kiss and more noises that make Alec want to forget about the gifts and take Magnus straight to bed.

Finally, with the food cleared and nothing left to do but sink back into the couch, Magnus pressed against his side, Alec picks the box of gifts off of the floor and hands them over. “These are for uh, you. From. Me. I had help, but they’re for you.”

Magnus’ cheeks must be hurting with all the smiling he’s doing, but impossibly, it brightens at the sight of the box.

“I hope it’s okay,” Alec says softly, and Magnus squeezes his hands.

Slowly, painstakingly, he opens the first gift - the picture from Raphael, and Alec hopes this isn’t some twisted joke that Raphael’s playing, though Alec knows he and Magnus were - are - friends. 

“Oh, this is-” Magnus’ voice catches as he runs a finger over the picture. “How did you get this?”

“Simon told Raphael that I was doing this and he found that with Camille and I wanted you to have it back. It’s yours, right? Of Batavia?”

Something open and vulnerable appears on Magnus’ face. “You - I didn’t think anyone still had this.”

Alec doesn’t know what to say to that, but Magnus is already admiring the picture again. The expression on his face makes Alec ache. He knows how old Magnus is, how lonely he’s been, but it’s something else to see it when Magnus looks at him.

“Thank you, Alec.” It’s sincere, heartfelt, and Alec flushes.

“It’s nothing, I just-”

“It is something,” Magnus stressed, lifting a hand to Alec’s face. He rubs his thumb over Alec’s cheekbone and Alec allows himself to press into the touch.

When the silence drags on for too long, though not uncomfortable, Alec nods to the box. “There’s more.”

Magnus smiles again, and draws out the folder. Frowning, Magnus slides out Henry’s letters, and Alec can see the moment he recognises what they are - and who they’re from. “I thought these had been lost. Alec, where-”

“At the Institute,” Alec says, feeling bold enough to rest a hand on Magnus’ knee. Magnus curls their fingers together, the letters sliding into the box as Magnus lets them go. “Lydia and I found them. I thought - they shouldn’t be at the Institute because they’re yours.”

Magnus doesn’t say anything, but Alec doesn’t know if that’s because he doesn’t like them, or if he can’t. He puts the letters back neatly and after a what feels like eternity, says, “ _Alec_.”

Every time Magnus says his name, it’s heavier with emotion, and Alec want to keep hearing it, never wants Magnus to stop saying it that way, like Alec is everything.

“There’s one more.”

This time it’s a photograph. Aged and worn, Alec’s spent days searching for it in the Shadowhunter archives, trying to find the original. Everything is electronic at the Institute, but they have hardcopies too. Eventually he managed to dig it out.

It’s of Ragnor and Magnus, both of them looking triumphantly into the camera, the London Institute behind them, proudly showcasing the Portal they’d spent so much time on. It’s a happy moment, a snapshot in probably a hundred moments, but Alec knows about Ragnor, knows what he meant to Magnus, and anything he can give Magnus to remember him by means everything.

To make Magnus look at him like that, like he’s done the unthinkable and given Magnus something worth keeping.

“I didn’t know what to get you,” Alec admits quietly, squeezing Magnus’ leg gently when it looks like he might interrupt. “You’re 400 and I didn’t think I could give you anything you didn’t already have. I know you like keeping things, remembering stuff, and when we found those letters I knew we had to have more, that the Clave probably - that I could give you those memories back.”

It’s more than Alec’s said in a long time, and it’s all he can do not to fidget. Magnus puts the photo gently back in the box and then slides the whole thing onto the coffee table. There’s a seconds pause before he pulls Alec in, hugging him tight, mouth hot against Alec’s ear. Alec holds him back, arms around his shoulders, face buried in Magnus’ neck.

Alec feels raw with emotion, like he’s wearing his heart right out in the open, and Magnus can take it or throw it away. It’s more than he’s ever imagined he could be with someone, but he trusts Magnus, hopes that Magnus wants it, wants _Alec_.

“You did perfectly, Alec,” Magnus says eventually, and Alec shivers at the breath against his ear. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

 _You can_ , Alec wants to say. _I’d give you everything_.

It feels like too much, but Alec finds himself saying the words anyway, meaning them. He’s scared, terrified that he’ll fall so hard he won’t be able to escape.

Magnus cups his face, pulls his head down until their foreheads are touching. Alec counts the minutes in time with his heartbeat, with the thud of Magnus’ as Alec presses his fingers to Magnus’ chest. When the silence stretches, Magnus guides Alec’s mouth to his, kisses him like they’re both drowning, like this is the last kiss they’ll ever have, when Alec knows with a certainty he lets himself feel that this is just the first of so, so many more. “I love you, Alexander.”

“I,” Alec starts, swallows, and then closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of Magnus, of _them_. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> join me on [tumblr](http://thisissirius.tumblr.com)! i can't stop writing magnus and alec D;


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